


Faithfully

by am3ria



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Faithfully, Journey, Kids, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Musician Dean, Some fluffy smut, brief angst, but it's hardly smut, first fic ever, is this enough tags, wifey castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am3ria/pseuds/am3ria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's band is on the road again. Castiel can't help missing his partner. Dean misses him just as much and expresses that to him the best way he knows how. Through song!</p>
<p>This fic is based entirely around the song Faithfully by Journey and features the lyrics in it. <br/>If you don't know it go check it out because it's amazing and beautiful.</p>
<p>What a horrible summary. It's my first fic and first summary. Take pity on me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faithfully

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said in the summary this is my first fic I've ever written and therefore my first time posting anything anywhere. If it totally sucks PLEASE be brutally honest and let me know.  
> I, of course, have no beta so any mistakes are most certainly my own. I tried to read and re-read and re-re-read to catch any mistakes but if I failed please let me know!   
> I absolutely do not own anyone in supernatural and do NOT own the music or lyrics to the wonderful song here. Faithfully by Journey.

_Highway run_

_Into the midnight sun_

_Wheels go round and round_

_You're on my mind_

_Restless hearts_

_Sleep alone tonight_

_Sending all my love_

_Along the wire_

 

Dean scrubs his hand over his face, a sigh forcing its way out as he drops his pen. He pulls at the tired skin, tight from being up for far too many hours at a time.

"Dean?" It's Chuck's voice, and it's coming from the tiny hallway that houses the itty bitty bathroom in their tour bus. He's leaning against the frame with a frown creasing his lips. His light brown curls are messy and covering his eyebrows but the look on his face in unmistakable. "Dean, you should try to sleep. I know you miss him but it's not liking staying up endlessly is going to get you home any faster."

Dean knows he's right and he gives Chuck an exhausted half smile that tugs only one corner of his lips. "Yeah, Chuck, you're right," he rasps out. His voice is so warped from all of the constant singing, yelling at fans on stage, panting constantly from the heat of the spotlights. He lets out a tiny noise, half way to a throat-clearing cough, and reaches to the beer on the table. His eyes turn outward into the dark of the night that's starting to break into morning. The sun hasn't risen yet but there's that grayish hue coming on that means it'll be up within the hour. He checks his phone, little white numbers brightly telling him it's just before 4am in the middle of Summer and they're somewhere in the Midwest, driving to another show, another day, another night, another city farther away from Castiel.

Another day closer, he reminds himself as he leaves his scribbled writing sitting on the small table so he can all but stumble his way over to the bedding area at the back of the bus. He squeezes past Chuck in the hallway, giving his shoulder a pat on the way in thanks for always looking out for him.

Dean flops down into one of the cots and rolls his body to face the wall. He hears the soft snores of his band-mates, knowing they'll be up and bustling when he's finally dead to the world. He clutches his phone too tight, knuckles white as he peers down at it. He swipes right on Castiel's face and finds the mans name in the midst of his recent texts. He stares for a while, wondering if he should be texting him so early. He doesn't want to wake him up, knows how exhausted he must be doing all of this on his own. Dean feels his chest tighten and he doesn't know if it's from missing Cas or feeling guilty that he's alone so much lately. He caves.

**I miss you. I love you. We've got a show again tonight but tomorrow is a day off. I was thinking maybe I could actually call and hear your voice? It's been too long, Angel.**

The blue bubble pops up with his words and he watches impatiently for the small "delivered" to show up under the text. When it does, he locks the phone and rolls flat onto his back. One arm tucks under his head, under the pillow, and the other stays on the middle of his chest with the phone clutched tight to it. Finally, he's being taken by sleep.

 

_They say that the road_

_Ain't no place to start a family_

_Right down the line_

_It's been you and me_

_And lovin' a music man_

_Ain't always what it's supposed to be_

_Oh, boy, you stand by me_

_I'm forever yours_

_Faithfully_

 

Castiel leaned down, hands gripping tight under the toddlers arms as he hefted the child up. His hip propped slightly to the right he comes to rest the kid against it and the tiny arms instinctively wrap around his his neck tightly. A sad smile tugged at Castiel's lips as the two of them stood in the doorway to the house.

All Castiel could do was stare at the ground, trying to keep that smile in place as forced as it was. He heard the all too familiar sound of Dean's last minute frantic packing and then, finally, the pounding of his feet coming down the stairs. In another minute Dean was standing right in front of Castiel, tipping his chin up so that their eyes met. Castiel allowed it but there's no expression he could pull off to fool Dean into believing he's happy about him leaving. Again.

When they'd gotten together so many years before, when they were just in their early 20's, two dumb kids fresh out of college, if anyone had asked him what his future held there was a million alternate universes that never gave him the idea he'd be married to a musician, living in the suburbs, waiting for the nanny to come and watch their child so he could go to work too. He would have laughed until he was blue in the face, gasping for air, and then laughed some more.

"Babe," Dean whispered, pulling Cas from his memory, "It's only going to be three months, okay? We're only in the states. I'm never far away. I know this has been hard for you and it's hard for me too. But I'm always yours, okay?"

Castiel nodded and shifted the child in his arms, fingers tingling at the weight of him. He couldn't bring himself to speak when Dean's hand cupped his cheek and their lips came together. It was a short kiss, sweet and close lipped. After the brief moment, Dean's hand is on the back of his head and his lips are instead pressed into his forehead, catching a few stray, messy chestnut locks in the motion. When his lips were gone, Castiel's gaze moved to his right where the child was rubbing his eye tiredly, gazing up at his father with confusion. Young enough still to not understand where daddy is going, Castiel was almost envious. Dean leaned forward in the same way as he did with Castiel, and kissed the child's forehead while a calloused hand holding the back of his hair.

"You take care of your dad, okay little man?" Dean asked the child. A smile parted Dean's lips as the tired head hit Castiel's shoulder but nodded anyway.

"Of course, daddy," the tiny voice whispered out, "it's the family business," he added, more awake now but only for the moment.

"That's my boy," Dean chuckled softly, rustling the curling brown hair atop the child's head before he turned and made his way to where Chuck was waiting for him so they might drive together to meet the others.

Castiel raised his arm in a wave that Chuck returned in a tiny waggle of fingers before both men were in the car, engine roaring to life in the quiet of the early suburban morning and like that, Dean was gone again.

 

_Circus life_

_Under the big top world_

_We all need the clowns_

_To make us smile_

_Through space and time_

_Always another show_

_Wondering where I am_

_Lost without you_

 

Dean hops back and forth between his feet on the stage, guitar strap over his shoulder and body of the instrument hanging in front of him. He rubs his hands together, he knocks his head back and forth to loosen up his neck. His pre-concert ritual, as it were, to get himself pumped to get out there.

"Okay!" He finally yelps, that last bit of pump he needs in the dark of the stage. He can feel the heat instantly as the room falls nearly silent. They're on the stage, they're in that minute of darkness where everyone positions themselves before that first note is going to ring out and waves of screaming fans will appear before him in a sea of bobbing heads and bouncing bodies.

His fingers grip the frets, he makes himself become still, and the next thing he knows he's feeling blinded as usual by the spotlights. With the lights as his cue, everything about him is moving. His finger and thumb on the pick as it hits the strings, his other hand on the neck, moving with muscle memory to the right notes at the right time. Dean moves about the stage, could never be one to stand still, and he's jumping onto a raised amp at the front of the stage, standing in the stream of a bright white light. He barely notices Chuck doing the same in the middle of the stage, and Sammy on the farther side is up there as well. No one could ever say they weren't performers. Dean turns, raising his head, and sees the three ring circus that they are, performing for the amusement of thousands.

Between songs, as instruments or backdrops change, or while Chuck decides he needs a different outfit because he just had to be _that_ kind of performer (not that Dean minds), Dean is the one that addresses the crowd. He says the city name and there's a roar of excitement. When he's on tour, Dean is always so far away mentally from the city he's actually in. He's always at home with Castiel and little Ben in his mind, but no one would know. He's everyone's clown when it comes to the public. Every video, every interview, every concert, he's the one with constant humor seeping out of him. The fans love it. They love it now, too, as he rambles on about new songs and makes jokes about how Chuck must be a lady with how much time he spends in front of a mirror.

"I mean really! C'mon. What is that guy doing back there?" He asks the crowd, and they're whistling and yelling as he makes a ridiculous face and throws a hand on the microphone. "CHUCK! Earth to Chuck! I don't know, guys, what do you think? Do you think you want to listen to me talk some more or do you think you wanna hear Chuck sing?" There's the sound of symbols crashing lightly behind them as Gabriel bashes them to entice the crowd and the screaming that follows makes Dean laugh and his heart swells with gratitude for the fans. "No, no. What was that? You guys can do better than that. I said! Do you. Want to. Hear Chuck. SING!?" He's tamping them up, the symbols are crashing, there's the thump of a bass-line coming from Sammy's instrument now. It's such a practiced routine that Dean only laughs once more before he's turning his head from his mic to look down at the guitar.

The show goes how it always does. There's always another one, there's always one more, and as alive as it makes Dean feel the high only lasts while he's still out there and starts to dissipate while they're behind a venue, signing autographs well into the dark of the night.

It finally wraps up, they're finally back on the bus, and Dean pulls out his phone for the first time all day to see the message from Castiel in a little grey bubble under his blue one.

**I miss you and love you too. How was your show? That would be nice. Ben's been asking where you are. He's growing up too fast, Dean. Or maybe I'm just getting too old for this. He's really excited to be starting school next month and he's been getting up at the crack of dawn every day so we can make sure we absolutely do NOT miss a single item of the list of supplies he's apparently going to need for kindergarten. You should see the list. The amount of things a 5 year old allegedly needs is crazy! Can't wait to hear your voice babe.**

Dean's heart pounds in his chest. He feels like he's missing everything. Ben wasn't supposed to grow up so fast. He wasn't supposed to be away so much. Castiel wasn't supposed to start a family all on his own while Dean was out on the road. Dean wonders briefly where they are exactly as the bus never seems to stop driving and realizes that it doesn't matter where in the world they might be traveling because wherever it is, without Castiel, he's lost.

 

_And being apart_

_Ain't easy on this love affair_

 

Castiel leaned against the wall in the kitchen when Dean's call came in. He watched Ben at the table, always endlessly doodling when he had a free minute.

"Hey," he'd let out softly, his arms crossed over his chest. The voice on the other end made him instantly feel better after two months of separation.

"Babe, I miss you so much, but something..." Dean drifted off and the warmth that his voice had brought Castiel a breath before is instantly ice in his veins.

"Oh fu-" Castiel cut himself off, eyed Ben, and moved around the wall to have the conversation in the living room instead. "What is it?" He hissed, and the corners of his eyes stung already. He knew what was coming. This happened far too often.

"It's just another couple weeks!" Dean sounded crushed, sounded wounded. "It's just that, you know, our manager called, and uhm, well, Matt wanted us to make an appearance at some charity kind of concert thing and you know how Chuck and Gabe feel about those things! So they said yes. It's not like I have a choice in any of this. I can't just say no and not go. So we're just gonna finish up the tour and drive on out to the coast to do this thing and then we'll drive all the way home. I'll be home!"

"Dean!" Castiel squeaked it out, trying to mask his anger, "the coast? _The coast?_ You're finishing up the tour in Washington on purpose so you'd only have a one day drive afterwards to get here, or did you forget? Because I know damn well when you say the coast you certainly don't mean the coast we live on if it's going to be a drive to the coast and then 'all the way' back home. You can't say no, hmm?" Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, moved farther from the kitchen when the sounds of Ben stopped. He knew the child was listening and didn't want him to hear their argument. Once he was down the hall and standing instead in their rec room he laid a hand on the bar and breathed in and out slowly in a feebly attempt to calm down.

"You know I can't say no. What am I supposed to do?" Dean's voice had risen as well, a tone to it Castiel remembered from any fight they'd ever had before.

"Leave," Castiel snapped, "Take a flight home and let them do some dumb charity thing. You're going to miss Ben's first day of school like you miss everything in his life." Castiel's words were harsh but he didn't care at that point. He slammed his fist onto the top of the bar when he felt tears turn from salted drops in the bottom of his lids to tiny tracks down his cheeks.

"It's a fucking charity _concert_ , Castiel. I can't just fly home and not do it. Are they magically supposed to get a new guitarist? Would you like that? If I just up and quit the band? Said 'hey guys, fuck it, I gotta go take care of my wife'."

Castiel hissed at the word, "your wife, eh? You're the one who went off to dick around on the road with your friends. I had to stay home. I had to get the sensible career! The _stable_ career so you could go have fun. And that makes me the fucking wife? You know what? No. Enjoy your fucking charity concert. I don't care! Go play for all the little girls and boys and pretend you're 'making a difference' and I'll be back here, being the best _wife_ anyone could ask for! Working full time, raising our child, making sure he's going to the right school, making sure he's at least got one parent to care for him."

Castiel clicked the little red phone icon and looked briefly at the now darkening screen. Something about clicking a button to hang up just didn't do his anger justice. In a swift movement his arm reached backward and then suddenly it was flying forward and the phone came ripping from his grasp to soar across the room and hit the wall with a dull thump before reaching the floor.

"Daddy?" Castiel turned, saw Ben's upset face, and scooped him up in his arms. Ben's tiny hands reached up and wiped his fathers tears gently. "Don't worry, Daddy, I still love you," he murmured into Castiel's chest as he snuggled his head down against it.

 

_Two strangers learn to fall in love again_

_I get the joy of rediscovering you_

_Oh, boy, you stand by me_

_I'm forever yours_

_Faithfully_

 

Dean wrings his hands as he sits in the passengers seat of the car.

"Dean, relax."

All he can do is nod at Chuck's words. The silence stretches for an eternity before he finally speaks.

"What if he doesn't forgive me? We haven't talked in over a month."

"Dean, c'mon man. It's Castiel. You guys are like, forever," Chuck muses. He reaches over, across Dean's body, and shoves the door open for him. "Now you get out of my car and you go see your husband or I swear to God I'll take him home instead. He's way too good to you. Don't be stupid."

Dean knows he's right. Castiel has been more than he deserves for as long as he can remember. He still does now, and always has done, everything he can to support every last little thing Dean has ever felt like doing.

Dean stands, inhales slowly, and makes his way up the concrete steps to the house. He looks briefly at their front porch, at the two wooden chairs he'd made for them when they were 25 and all they had was a tiny balcony at their first shared apartment. Now, the front porch swallows the chairs with its grandeur. It's a distant memory now, and Dean's refinished the chairs a couple times since then but they've never wanted new ones, never wanted ones that fit with all the rest of they're now over the top home. No, those imperfect wooden chairs are the perfect ones for them.

He opens the door and he's greeted by silence. It's painfully early in the morning as Dean toes out of his shoes and drops his small duffle bag beside the door with a nearly inaudible sound. He stands in the foyer and his eyes sweep from it to their sunken living room on the left, to the back where an arch shows the corner of their kitchen. Instead, he turns to the right and takes the stairs two at a time. At the top he takes one last look over the railing at the living room before he takes another right down the hallway. He passes Ben's room, door cracked open slightly. Surprisingly, he finds it to be empty. His face scrunches momentarily in concern but he remembers it's a Saturday and knows that Castiel's sister often takes her little nephew away from them on Friday nights to spend time with her own little terror.

He moves quickly down the hall to the end, where morning light is just starting to break through the expansive windows in his bedroom. Castiel never closes the door when Dean is away and it makes Dean smile to know that hasn't changed since their fight. His heart races as he reaches the doorway. His eyes fall on the mass of white pillows, duvets, and comforters. The smallest chuckle escapes his throat as the pile groans and moves on one side of the bed and a trace of nearly black hair can be seen standing out brilliantly against one of the oversized pillows.

Dean moves toward the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as he goes. Next he unfastens his belt and his jeans roll smoothly down his legs. His socks slip off with the aid of a finger hooking in the back of them to tug downward lightly. Dean grips the right edge of the blankets tight and lifts it slowly. His body slides easily into the sea of white and he reaches out to Castiel hesitantly. His fingers meet uncomfortably warm flesh when they find his arm but it makes Dean grin stupidly. Castiel always loved to be warm; his body always 'ran hot'. Dean remembers the first time he touched it and can't help feeling like it's the first time all over again. Finally, his gentle tugging at Castiel's bicep urges the body awake enough to turn over.

"Hey," Dean whispers.

Blue eyes turn up tiredly and a hand instantly swims its way through the blanket to find Dean's cheek. "Hi," Castiel whispers back and his hand moves from Dean's cheek to his hair, to the back of his neck, to his chest. Castiel's eyes follow his fingers everywhere they go. It's as if he's trying to prove that Dean is real and this isn't just (another) overly realistic dream. Dean grasps his hand when it finds the dip between his pectoral muscles and gives a light squeeze.

"My name's Dean Winchester, and I know I've been gone way too long, but I'm home now and I can't wait to hear about your summer."

Dean is propped up on one elbow and Castiel mimics the action, resting his chin in the heel of his hand as he gazes lovingly at his partner who still grips his fingers tight. He wiggles them against the flesh, presses it lightly as if he was trying to feel the heart beating beneath.

"My name's Castiel Novak-Winchester, and I don't think I've ever seen eyes so green. What's a face like that doing in a bed like mine?"

They both laugh and the soft noises of amusement coming from Castiel quiet as he burrows his face into the crook of Dean's neck and shoulder. Dean's own laughter falters and fades when Castiel's lips brush over his collarbone. His free arm reaches over Castiel's back and his fingers find the soft dip just before the curve of his ass. He pushes forward gently, urges Castiel to be closer, and the inches between their chests are gone. Both men on their sides, chest to chest, groin to groin, Dean lets that hand drift from the base of Castiel's spine up to his hair and back down for what feels like hours but is likely only a handful of minutes.

Castiel's lips are dry from sleep and his tongue darts out to wet them. He's close enough to the underside of Dean's jaw that the light dusting of stubble makes his tongue tickle at the motion.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too. I never want to leave you."

"But you have to. Sometimes," Castiel concedes.

"I know, but- hey. I have something I want you to listen to, actually."

"Now?" Castiel whines softly, holding tightly to the back of Dean's neck.

"Yeah. I mean, it could wait, but I really don't want to wait any longer than I already have."

Without any indication from Cas whether he approves of this or not, Dean is gone. Down the hall, down the stairs, riffling through his bag. He's in the corner of the living room, inserting a disc into the large stereo system. They decided when they built this home to install a sound system with speakers and wiring going throughout so that the entire house could always be filled with music.

Castiel hears the sound of piano drifting quietly through the room and he sighs, closing his eyes as he flops onto his back.

"New song?" He asks the air as he hears Dean enter the room again.

"New song," Dean purrs, crawling up the bed. He rips the sheets off Castiel and wraps the man up in his arms, pulling him to his chest. He rolls both their bodies over so that Castiel's weight is on top of him. His right arm wraps tightly across Castiel's strong back, holding on tight while his other hand finds dark locks. He absently twists the short hairs around his fingers as he stares at the ceiling.

Castiel is silent, listening to the soft words. His nose scrunches at the lyrics. He turns his head upward slightly, staring into Dean's chin. The words ramp up, the piano continues but it's clouded over by the sound of a beautifully melodic guitar. He hears the voice and for what feels like half the song he can't place why Chuck's voice sounds so different than it normally does.

Suddenly, it clicks, and Castiel has his hands firmly planted on the bed looking down at Dean whose eyes are now closed.

"Dean," he demands.

"Mmm, no. Just listen," Dean murmurs, a finger coming up to press against Castiel's lips.

It only takes four and a half minutes for Castiel to be an emotional mess. He's not crying, but his shoulders are trembling and he's waiting desperately for Dean to look at him. When the song finally ends, they're both sitting up. Dean scoots back to rest against the intricate headboard. Castiel crawls up the bed and pushes Dean's thighs closed gently. He straddles his partners hips and grips his face tight.

"Dean," he whimpers out, ducking down to catch the soft pink lips with his own. Arms circle Castiel's thin waist, holding loosely. Dean frees a hand to let his thumb brush across Castiel's high cheek bone gently.

"Castiel," Dean breathes out, lips still close enough to Castiel's that they brush his when he speaks, "I'm not around enough. I'm gone all the time. I know it's never easy on you. I don't have any excuses. And maybe I'm not a good enough husband, and maybe starting a family when the band was taking off was stupid, and..." Dean breaks, looking into Castiel's waiting face. He knows he doesn't even need to explain but God knows he wants to get this out, "and it's not easy on me either, Cas. I miss you. All the fucking time. Everyone knows you deserve so much more than me pissing off with the boys all the time but you always stand by me. God knows why you put up with me, but you always do. Nothing, ever, anywhere in this world, could possibly keep me from you. No amount of space or time ever makes me love you any less. I'm yours. I'm always yours. Forever. Faithfully."

Dean's fingers cup Castiel's cheek and the next kiss they share grows deeper than the chaste ones they've briefly traded so far. Their heads tilt slightly in opposing directions and their lips part. Castiel's tongue is first to probe Dean's mouth. It's not fiery, it's not passionate. It's gentle, needy, and whimpers escape Castiel's throat as Dean's tongue returns the desperate gesture to rediscover the person in front of him.

"Dean Winchester," Castiel mutters against Dean's mouth, a small laugh escaping him, "there's a million reasons why I love you, and put up with you. Don't you ever, for one second, tell me that you wish we hadn't started a family. I see so much of you in Ben already and I appreciate Anna every day for being a surrogate for us. I wish you were here for more of his moments, and maybe one day you will be, but right now? It's just you and me."

Dean nods. It's answer enough. It's reason enough. His arm on Castiel's waist unravels itself and instead his thumbs are pressing into Castiel's hips gently, slipping the nails under both sides of his underwear. His eyes turn up, flicker with love as Castiel nods his consent.

They shift awkwardly on the bed, both wriggling free from the last garment before Castiel settles back in Dean's lap, knees touching the head board on either side of his hips. The smallest gasp escapes his throat as their soft cocks meet for the first time in four months. Dean can't resist the smirk on his lips and disguises it by ducking his head. His lips find Castiel's favorite spot and his mouth is wet and warm and constant on the smaller mans neck. Castiel's fingers are in his shoulders, clenching tightly. When his grip releases there's tiny half-moon nail prints in the skin. Castiel's hands drift, his back curving away from Dean so there's an ample space to reach between them. There's lust oozing out of his skin but his touch is gentle, loving, timid. His slim fingers wrap around Dean's shaft and it twitches subtly. His fingers spread wide to fist his own as well. Castiel's lips stay shut tightly but there's the distinct rumble of a groan in his throat. He's been waiting a long time to be able to do this again.

"Baby," Castiel gasps out when Dean's hand closes over his, tightening the grip, urging his fist to move. "I, uh, I- hmm... I know things were, ah-huh, kind of harsh," he's struggling with the words as Dean's hand moves with his own, making him grow stiff under the rough fingers. Dean squeezes, snickering into Castiel's throat. His teeth sink into the skin. "Fuck," Castiel whimpers, forcing him to continue his thought, "kindofharsh," he rushes, "but I still knew you were supposed to be coming home this week so I did something for you."

Dean's face pulls away from Castiel's neck, his hand still moving lazily as he eyes the older man curiously. He notices for the first time the tiniest hint of grey hairs starting to peek through in his stubble. When Dean looks at Castiel, he doesn't see the 40 year old he's spent the last 18 years with. He still sees the 22 year old he met in a record store. He waits, eyes full of wonder and question. "What is it?" He finally insists, giving another light squeeze to their tender flesh.

"Well." It's all that comes from Castiel's lips, and before Dean can really tell what's going on, Castiel has moved his hand into the night stands top drawer. Dean's eyes slip shut knowingly and he groans at the need he can feel in himself. He goes to move Castiel off of him so he can turn over and present himself to his love.

"I know you missed me, but it's been a bit babe. you're going to have to go easy on me," Dean's saying as he's nudging at Castiel's hips, but Castiel isn't moving. Dean's brow furrows in confusion. Castiel's smile is shy, nervous. Before Dean can ask him what's wrong he feels the cool, slick feeling of the lubricant being spread over his aching cock. "Whoa, babe," Dean growls out, "what're you doing?" Dean might like to pretend Castiel is the wife, might like to talk like a big man to his friends, but he's always been Castiel's play thing in bed. He's always been the one on his knees, on his back, holding himself open for Castiel to use up.

"Just hush," Castiel hisses. His eyes are soft despite the harness of the his words and Dean's breath hitches. Castiel doesn't move Dean, he leaves him sitting up right against the head board. He's kneeling over Dean again, gripping his cock tightly as he angles it properly against himself. Slowly, Castiel lowers the tiniest fraction and Dean feels panic rising inside of him. He grips Castiel tightly, doesn't let him move. "Dean!" Castiel grips the back of Dean's neck tightly with his free hand, forces their eyes to meet. "I said," he growls out, "that I did something for you." With that, Castiel sinks harshly down on Dean when he's caught off guard and it takes everything in Dean to not scream as heat is surrounding every inch of him and the curve of Castiel's ass is pressing right against his thighs.

"Ohmygod," Dean moans out, head lolling back against the wood of the headboard. "What the... Jesus." Castiel feels tight, feels warm, feels wet and amazing.

"I spent the last week..." Castiel's voice drops from sultry to shy, his head dipping forward so that his forehead is on Dean's shoulder, "Preparing myself for when you might come home," he finishes. His hips raise up from Dean's lap, only a little bit at first, and drop down again. The motion is slow and curious.

"You're fucking incredible," Dean purrs. His fingers are so tight on Castiel's hips he doesn't know how he's not complaining about the pain of it. The thought of Castiel preparing himself with toys while Dean was still away so he could give him this for the first time is nearly too much and Dean feels his cock pulse inside Castiel.

Castiel feels it too and he raises himself all the way up, so just the head of Dean is inside him. "No," he mumbles, "no. I want this to... it's special, okay? It needs to last longer than this." Castiel is barely audible as he tells Dean this, sliding down the length of him to rest their bodies together again.

Dean takes the hint, calms himself, opens his eyes so he can gaze at Castiel's body on top of his own. Neither of them moves. They simply breath, letting themselves ease back into this. Dean understands what Castiel means when he says this is special. Usually when he comes home they rip each other apart and Castiel leaves Dean sore for days. Usually, it happens so fast that they need a round two just to feel like they've really embraced each other again. But this time is different. Castiel has never once considered letting Dean be inside of him in all their years together and Dean had to appreciate it, appreciate him, and make it last as long as Castiel wanted.

And that's just what he does. They move lazily, barely, pressing against each other and thrusting slowly for nearly an hour before Dean's fingers finds Castiel's cock, finally, and began to mimic the rhythm of their hips. It's been wonderful. They aren't slick with sweat, they weren't cursing, they're panting sweet nonsense into each others mouths, into each others necks and shoulders.

"I love you," Dean breaths out, lower stomach tight with a familiar, favorite sensation of his. It's like nothing else to feel Castiel from the inside out so Dean relishes the fleeting final moments. His fingers twisting on Castiel, tightening a little. Castiel takes the hint and moves a little more rapidly, lifting half way off of Dean instead of just an inch or two, sucking him back in deeply with every motion.

It's over with shallow gasps and arching backs, hot white spilling onto both their stomachs from Castiel and into his tightened, rigid body when Dean's climax comes immediately after that.

"I love you, too," Castiel whispers, sinking his body against Dean's. He doesn't move, doesn't slip off of Dean's softening cock. He simply rests his head on top of Dean's shoulder as he realizes the song Dean had written him is still playing and he enjoys the rawness of it. It's clearly been recorded live from one of their recent shows. Castiel hears the scream of fans, the way Dean's voice is nervous because he doesn't usually sing in front of anyone but Ben and sometimes Cas. His heart feels like it's swelling at the gesture.

Dean hums along softly into his hair, holding his love tight.

 

_Whooa, oh-oh-ooh_

_Whooa, oh-oh-ooh, oh_

_Whooa, oh-oh-oh, oh-whoooooa-oh_

_Faithfully_

_I'm still yours_

_I'm forever yours_

_Ever yours_

_Faithfully_

**Author's Note:**

> Be brutal and ruthless. Tell me all the things wrong here or if writing is just not my strong suit. Criticism is the only way to get better at things!   
> Also let me know how you like the based-around-a-song concept as it's something I have a lot of ideas about in my head for other stories.


End file.
